


A Little Brighter

by Shen_Gong_Oops



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Arranged Marriage, Bellamy is a soldier, Clarke and Murphy are engaged, F/M, King Jake is great, Princess Clarke, Rivals to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shen_Gong_Oops/pseuds/Shen_Gong_Oops
Summary: Taking a deep breath, he turned towards Clarke. "If I were to take up your father's offer for knighthood, please know, I do not wish to be the knight to the princess of all Arkadia."Or: Bellamy takes a really long time to realize he's being a hypocrite.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Emori/John Murphy (The 100)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 82
Collections: Chopped: Holiday Trope Exchange 1.0





	A Little Brighter

**Author's Note:**

>   1. Rivals to Lovers 
>   2. Arranged Marriage AU 
>   3. Pregnancy
>   4. Sunsets 
> 


* * *

To say Bellamy Blake was not a fan of their future monarch was an understatement. And maybe his anger at her was slightly misappropriated but Bellamy was nothing if not steadfast in his ways.

The elder child of a poor seamstress (and lady of the night) employed as an apprentice blacksmith had not been an ideal candidate for the militia. At least in the eyes of the upper class. Highborne sons and daughters fast tracked to knighthood while the offspring of those not as fortunate as the highbornes but still living comfortably made up the foot soldiers of the militia. The yearly allowance afforded to a soldier far greater than Bellamy's earnings as an apprentice blacksmith. He would be able to provide for a better life for his sister.

Bellamy may have been the most probable of choices for the militia. He tested each weapon crafted in the forge for hours every day. He and his younger sister becoming well versed with sword fighting and blade wielding over the years.

And yet the circumstances of his birth had dictated he could never serve in the Arkadian militia.

He spent a majority of his formative years arguing for the lowest of society. Trying to topple the restrictions set forth by one's birth. It took just shy of a decade for his pleas, and those of his fellow villagers, to be heard. He received the letter of enlistment the morning Octavia came home near singing in glee of her engagement to a local merchant girl Niylah. The radiant smile wiping from her face the moment she found the parchment hidden in his cloak. His sister yelling, tears streaming down her face, as she demanded he run. He needed to call for Niylah to come round and take Octavia from their small shack for the night.

He would be the oldest in the introductory class. The remaining members make up his group in boot camp were from wealthier families and just came of age. 

Octavia spent her days away from their home, unable to look at him without crying. 

Boot camp was divided into two sectors: knight training and foot soldier training. Bellamy and the lowerbornes segregated to the latter. The elder Sir Miller their commanding officer. Surprisingly, Princess Clarke, the sole heir to all of Arkadia, was placed in the latter program. To provide her with a more well rounded experience, or something akin to that. To obtain their title, the knights already possessed a knowledge of swords play. The princess would be on the battlefield (far, far away from any future battle itself), but she had not received any training prior. Never once lifting a sword. 

Additionally, this time gave her the opportunity to understand the population better, surrounded more diverse group of subjects. 

Needless to say, the princess' ability to join the militia rubbed Bellamy the wrong way. He fought for so long to enlist yet the princess may as well have woken one morning and decided to join the militia. Her daddy appeasing her immediately. And he, in turn, annoyed her. They were two people striving to show their worth and that they deserved their position. Yet instead of joining forces, they clashed at every turn. During the first weeks of training in early spring, the pair ended up arguing about war strategies and which would be more useful in hypothetical scenarios. During training sessions, they wore themselves out just to best the other. His swordsmanship far surpassing hers but she fared better with a bow and arrow. She would best him when it came to riding and doing anything on horseback while he ran laps around the princess, and most of the battalion.

Come late summer, none of the other foot soldiers asked Bellamy or the princess to spar or partner during an exercise. They knew he and the princess would be each others' partner to see who would win. Her own betrothed never made a move to be her partner. Though in his defense, he was part of the knight training program as opposed to theirs. He watched eagerly to see who would win their silly little competitions.

In his head, he could hear his sister scolding his pettiness. Yelling at him to be the bigger person but he batted away the voice. 

Their petty rivalry shifted with the dawn of winter. Specifically, on the day he "saved the princess's life." Early one evening, she evades her assigned knight, losing the dolt in the thick foliage of the woods. The princess weaved through the trees to find a small watering hole said to produce a type of weed most suitable for healers. Unbeknownst to the princess, there was a spy in their camp. A soldier planning to aide the usurp of King Jake and expel the Griffin lineage.

Bellamy had been in a nearby clearing with a few other foot soldiers as well as the younger Sir Miller, when they heard the heart-wrenching scream. Without hesitating, Bellamy flew off into the woods armed solely with a small knife strapped to his ankle. When he reached the small watering hole, the sight before him made Bellamy freeze. Sprawled out in the dirt lay the princess. The woman doing everything she could to parry the onslaught of attacks from the man pinning her down. Blood caked to her right cheek. As the male gripped a handful of her blonde curls and yanked as hard as he could, Bellamy seemed to be able to move once more.

He tackled the male, easily knocking the other to the ground. They briefly grappled over the knife in the male's hand. Bellamy gripped the man's wrist, twisting it back uncomfortably forcing him to drop the weapon. Immediately, his fingers wrapped around the hilt. Bellamy smacked the pommel of the knife into the male's left temple to disorient him. Sir Miller raced over to the pair, using his weight to assist Bellamy in pining down the male. 

Before he could raise the knife, Clarke's voice called out. "Wait! Bellamy, leave him!"

Dark eyes shot up to look at the princess. Her blonde hair tangled, matted in one section, and littered with leaves and twigs. Her traveling attire torn and stained with dirt. Blue eyes wild with fear and determination locked with his.

"He tried to kill you," Bellamy shifted his weight to prevent the other from trying to escape. "He could have killed you."

The others in his party were checking Clarke over. They believed she had no other injuries aside from the cut on her cheek. Gently, they helped her to her feet. Three sets of eyes darted towards the princess in confusion. She wished no harm to her assailant?

"I noticed." She said tersely, "But the knife he wielded is expensive, especially for a person with her allowance."

Glancing down at the blade in his hand, Bellamy's eyes widened in surprise. He spent years designing and crafting every aspect of swords and knives. How had he not noticed the intricate hilt? Well… he was occupied with something much more pertinent: keeping Clarke alive. "Someone put him up to it and I want to know who."

The group stripped the assailant of anything and everything, leaving him as bare as the day he was born. Using hemp, they tied him up against a tree.

As they returned to the training camp, Bellamy turned the blade over and over in his hands. He never received an order for such a knife nor did he recognize the handiwork. No small signatures or marking to identify the blacksmith and leaving them with no means of knowing whoever purchased the knife. Glancing to his left, Bellamy watched as the princess strode through the woods, chin defiant. She wore the blood on her cheek as a badge of honor. 

Before they entered the camp, she pulled him aside to quietly thank him. Her words hurried together. He opened his mouth to tell her she need not thank him, he barely did anything but she gently took the knife from his hand. Her small fingers brushing against his.

"Goodnight Bellamy."

That winter night something between them changed. No longer did they seek one another out in hopes for a challenge. He found himself at the end of each day searching the crowd for a mess of blonde hair to ensure she was okay. Every night while the camp ate their rations, his eyes would scan the crowd to make sure she ate her dinner. Making sure Clarke was alright became his main priority. In hindsight, he should have always been cautious if the princess' safety. Yet he still could not find it in himself to worry for the princess… he was worrying over Clarke.

And she, she seemed to look at for him as well.

+++ 

It was an odd shift in their dynamic. Very few at their camp knew what happened that fateful night, leaving near the whole population warily anticipating the calmness to end. Bellamy included. He worriedly wondered if this change were only temporary.

That is, until the king himself requested Bellamy’s presence in the palace two weeks before the Winter Solstice. Had the king only just heard of the childish rivalry he partook in with the princess? Was it considered treason against the crown to speak ill of the future monarch’s form when wielding a broadsword? To the best of his knowledge it was not. But then again, Bellamy was a mere blacksmith. He was not well versed in the complexities of the law.

Oh how he hoped it was not treason.

Two of his commanding officers, the elder Sir Miller and Sir Scott, escorted him the few miles from their training encampment to the walls of the castle. Both rode on horseback while Bellamy sped along on foot keeping pace between the two knights. They quietly traded tips as to proper decorum around the monarchy seeing as Bellamy’s decorum around monarchs lacked, well decorum. 

Bellamy did not know what he expected for his sentencing hearing but it had not included being led by palace guards passed the throne room where a king often received his subjects, through the winding corridors, to a small private sitting room. The king slouched in a plush chair at the head of a small table sans crown and sans golden scepter. To his left sat the princess poised in her seat. Her hair done up in an immaculate twist. He could not make the connection between the woman before him dressed in a flowing, blue gown and Clarke, the girl he knew from camp with wild blonde curls and dressed in trousers and loose tunic. A third chair empty opposite the princess.

The blue eyes of King Jake appraised him slowly. Lips pulled into a frown. Wordlessly, the king reached for the rapier laid on the table. The handle had been the most elaborate work Bellamy had ever done. Hours spent slaving over the heat of the forge. The metal sweeping, curling about to mimic the ocean waves. Small gems decorating the metal.

"You created this, correct?" King Jake asked, rolling his wrist. The flames from the candelabras glinting off the thin blade

Bellamy slowly nodded, unsure of his voice. This would be the end of Bellamy Blake. Slain by a weapon of his own design. Surprisingly, a grin found its way to the king’s face. The king turned the sword upwards, the positioning of the blade dividing his face in half. "We use this specific rapier for accolades." 

With a faint smile, the king pointed towards the empty chair. "If you would, please." Bellamy turned his attention to Clarke- the princess. Her eyes darting away, glancing at the hands folded in her lap.

"I must thank you for saving my daughter's life."

He knew it he should not have, for it was terribly rude, but Bellamy did not look at the king. He instead paid attention to Clarke. "She did the saving herself. I came in at the tail end of the fight."

Clarke's eyes darted up from his lap, wide with curiosity and dare he say surprise.

+++

The king offered to knight Bellamy Blake. To appoint the poor son of a mere seamstress as the knight. More specifically, the knight at the side of the princess and sole heir of all Arkadia, now that hers had been locked away for treason. Clarke had easily evaded her knight not because of cleverness (though she was rightfully clever) but because the knight had not intended to follow her that evening. Her trusted knight working in tandem with her assailant to kill the princess and make it seem as if her knight had been attacked trying to defend her. Guards found him pretending to be unconscious with self-inflicted wounds not too far from the watering hole. Clarke’s assailant naming him immediately as a co-conspirator in hopes of a lesser sentence.

If he had not been sitting, Bellamy would have toppled over. According to the king, the elder Sir Miller praised his abilities as a soldier. Raving that Bellamy was top of his class, alongside the princess of course. His abilities better than some of the knights themselves. When the king mentioned this, Bellamy wished to stop him. Explain that the elder Sir Miller was over embellishing Bellamy’s abilities. That he had to have confused him with someone else.

But then the king mentioned Clarke. Princess Clarke, _the_ _Princess Clarke_ , provided her own recommendation for Bellamy’s position at her side.

He had been sane of mind that morning when he woke, had he not? Even in his youth, his imagination had not been so rampant.

The appointment of a knight without prior training as a page and a squire? Inconceivable.

He wished to speak with Clarke. Ask if he had fallen ill. That is was an odd fever dream if his. But her fiance Sir Murphy came to collect her before their meeting concluded. The pair traveling down to the dungeons. Clarke proffered him one of their many empty guest rooms for the evening but Bellamy excused himself, stating something about leaving Jasper unsupervised for too long. He weaved his way through the castle, navigating around workers decorating the corridors for the solstice. 

Knighthood?!

+++

Over the next fortnight, he and Clarke continued to voluntarily seek one another out for conversation. Bellamy's eyes would nervously shift to Sir Murphy whenever the other was nearby, wondering if he opposed their odd friendship. The lowliest of peasants speaking with his future bride. To BEllamy’s surprise, the male had no qualms with their relations. On one occasion, Sir Murphy happily joined their conversation. The male clever and sardonic. Never did he convey any indication hatred or ill will towards Bellamy. Which did not settle Bellamy's nerves.

The times where Bellamy did not worry of Sir Murphy's proximity, Clarke had his undivided attention. Nothing in the camp mattered except her, and if he were being honest with himself, that scared him more than anything her fiance could throw at him.

The night before the Winter Solstice, Clarke waltzed over to his small group seated beside the warmth of the fire. Jasper was regaling them with some outlandish tale he swore was true. Monty, Jasper's usual sparring partner, agreeing every now and then in a vain attempt to make them believe the blatant extravagances of the story. Jasper's tale was cut short when he noticed who joined their small party. With a faint wave of her hand, Clarke told him not to stop on her account.

Not that her statement mattered. Bethany never heard the ending to the story, instead paying more attention to the woman beside him. Her eyes alight with jovial humor.

"The officers plan to give us a day of rest tomorrow. Do you lot have any ideas how you wish to spend the solstice?" Clarke asked. She gazed about the group briefly before settling on Bellamy.

Everyone discussed how they would spend the day with family and friends, culminating with watching the sunset. "Probably in my tent or I guess I could go to a tavern." Bellamy muttered offhandedly. "Join in on the merriment there."

Clarke worried her bottom lip, "Are you not visiting loved ones?"

"My sister and I have not spoken to one another since I enlisted. I heard from a neighbor she and her fiancee are traveling."

"The castle is open to all the regiments throughout Arkadia and their families. There will be a feast for all who wish to attend." Did she wish for him to attend?

+++

That morning he spent more time agonizing over his sparse clothing options then he ever had in his whole life. Being the son of a seamstress, he had seen her sew some of the loveliest dresses and tunics. Nothing he could ever afford himself. After deliberating for longer then he would ever admit, he settled on a clean, dark blue tunic. Probably the nicest piece of clothing he possessed. 

Walking through the open portal of the castle had been more daunting than he anticipated. He felt out of palace staring up at the gargantuan wooden doors. Groups of soldiers hobbled about supporting one another, their tankards splashing ale onto the stone floor. Some looked as if they dunked their heads into a barrel of water, their hair dripping wet.

The castle had a bath house open for public use?

One soldier stood tall in the middle of the Great Hall, an odd contraption attached to her leg, leading everyone in folk songs.

"No tavern for you then?" Whipping about, he came face to face with Clarke. The woman wrapped in an enchanting green dress the color of pine needles and a small golden circlet around her head. Her blonde hair pulled into a complicated series of curls and braids.  _ Princess _ Clarke. 

Oh no.

Forcing his gaze back on the merriment of the Great Hall, Bellamy shrugged. "May as well enjoy a meal fit for a king." He is a weak man, he is. Turning back to look at Clarke, "Or I guess befitting a princess."

"Cheeky." She held out her right arm for him to take and when he did he expected her to lead them into the Great Hall. Instead, she led them down a series of corridors to a wrought-iron door. "Father prefers I have company at all times. Behind this door is the dungeons. Personally, I have no qualms walking around my home alone but would you-"

"Yes." He cut off. 

The smile on her face before opening the door was worth whatever Bellamy had just agreed to. Even if it were to spend his days in a cell. They both took a torch, traversing the darkened stairwell. The cells of the dungeon were properly lit. At the end of the hall, Sir Murphy sat on the ground in front of a cell. Dirt caking to his trousers and cloak. Bellamy if this had been where her previous knight and the boy who attacked her were imprisoned.

Inside the far cell was a woman. Long dark hair pulled into a loose, messy braid. A dusty tan dress covering her petite frame. What surprised Bellamy the most, even more than the facial tattoo, was the swollen midsection. A pregnant prisoner. Clarke began asking a million questions to the girl. All relating to if she needed anything, if she were in pain, if the meal was to her liking. The cot in the girl's cell was different than the ones in the other cells. More blankets, a few extra pillows. Even the bed itself looked more comfortable. A tray with a few scraps lay near the bars.

"Bellamy, this is Emori." Clarke introduced. "My father and I have been petitioning for her to be moved into one of the empty guest rooms but his advisors, one of which is in charge of the guard, refuse to budge."

From the corner of his eye, Bellamy watched as Sir Murphy's fist clenched. Who was this girl? A small hand reached through the bars to rest atop Sir Murphy' trying to soothe him. 

Oh.  _ Oh _ .

"You the one always challenging the princess here?" The girl asked, a smirk playing on her lips. "I feel like John has mentioned you."

Clarke made a face at the girl, Emori, causing her to laugh. "No need to answer. I know I'm right." Almost immediately, the woman's happy nature dropped. Her face distorted in pain and a hand shot to her abdomen.

"Emori!" Sir Murphy yelled, scrambling to his feet. Frantic arms reaching through the bars. Clarke remained calm, telling the girl to approach them. Trying to perform an examination through the jail cell bars. They needed to be closer. 

A wooden bench rest against the far wall. Grabbing the piece of furniture, he told the pair to back up. Both looked about ready to argue until the realized what Bellamy planned. "You don't think I tried that!" Sir Murphy yelled through gritted teeth. "I have."

"Will all due respect  _ sir _ , you did not help build these new cells." Angling the bench so that the legs braced through the opening, he looked up at the girl. "Can you move backwards? I don't want this to land on you." On shaky legs, the woman took three steps back towards the wall. Bellamy twisted the bench to the side, making sure to anchor the bars and forced the bench downwards. The legs forcing the cell door upwards. Pressing down even further, Bellamy heard the latch pop, causing the cell door to fall backwards. "I also need to fix that."

The princess and the knight raced forward to check on the woman but she waved them off. Taking in a breath, she stood slowly. "Fine, fine, I am fine." She whined. "Just need a bit."

Sir Murphy's trembling hands reached up to cup Emori's face. His thumbs sweeping across her cheeks. "Hello John." Her voice barely a whisper. Murphy pulled her to him, lips crashing together. Bellamy turned away, eyes once again finding Clarke. She averted her gaze as well, staring down at her toes. He could only imagine what she felt. Her fiance standing before them with another woman, a heavily pregnant woman.

+++

Sir Murphy was gone within the hour with his... lady friend? To where, Bellamy was unsure of, but he would bet the knight would never set foot in the palace again. He would never reign as prince consort to their future queen. And it was Bellamy’s fault.

He broke the heart of the princess.

Duke Marcus Kane, a trusted advisor to the king and the country’s leading judge, had been the one to discover Sir Murphy’s affair with a local shopgirl. He had been the one to discover the pregnancy. He and Duke Jaham the other advisor to the king, had been the ones to arrest her for adultery. Bellamy found it funny that Sir Murphy got a simple pat on the wrist for the tryst when he should have been the one charged with adultery. But in order to keep the scandal a secret and not besmirch Clarke, Sir John Murphy was not arrested.

Clarke and her father strongly opposed.

Now after setting Emor free and letting Sir Murphy run, Bellamy put Clarke in an uncomfortable position. She would have to address the population and inform them what came of her engagement.

He milled about in the Great Hall, watching as Jasper and Monty chanted along with the regiment gleefully before chugging a tankard of ale. Both Sir Millers were in conversations with Duke Jaha, though neither seemed interested in being there. King Jake sat atop his throne, gazing out at the crowd with a large smile. When the king’s eyes met Bellamy’s, he stood from his throne. For a moment the room fell silent. Everyone waiting for the king to do something, say something. Waving a hand, he called for musicians to play and the staff to bring out the food. His blue eyes never left Bellamy’s.

He knew. The king knew Bellamy freed Emori. Now Bellamy would be imprisoned for freeing a prisoner.

"Have you gone over my offer?" The king asked. He noticed the two plates in Bellamy had prepared, one in each hand. "Enjoying the banquet?"

"I was unsure if Cla- the princess had eaten already." Bellamy hoped the king had not noticed his slip but judging from the toothy smile, the king had. Across the room, Clarke noticed the pair and shot off towards them. Shoulders rolled backwards, the image of perfectly poised as she raced across the hall. "I have thought about knighthood, but as I said before, I never studied as a page nor a squire."

The king quirked an eyebrow, "I understand if you feel uncomfortable. I planned to offer knighthood to your friends Jasper and Monty as well." King Jake turned to see his daughter approaching them, "Three of my soldiers raced into the woods without knowing what was occurring. They knew someone was in trouble and sought to help. I may be slightly biased seeing as that person is my daughter but I would like all of my knights to have such a sense of bravery and honor."

Clarke wrapped a hand around his father's arm, "Father, let Bellamy enjoy the banquet. It is his one day of rest."

Wordlessly, Bellamy extended one of the plates out towards Clarke. Confusion evident on her face. "He wanted to make sure you ate." With that King Jake disappeared into the crowd, clapping soldiers on their shoulders. Thanking each person privately for their service.

Clarke's finger ran along the the of the plate. Her eyebrows furrowed in thought. She extended her arm to him once more, asking if he would walk her to the astronomy tower. The best place in the kingdom to see the sunset. As they walked, her fingers picked about at the plate he made. She did not eat anything.

They found themselves seated above the world, feet dangling off the edge. Their plates resting on the ground beside them. Their arms resting on the railings running the length of the tower. The sky changing colors, hues of orange sweeping over the woods as the sun began its descent. The colors bleeding into the impending darkness.

The chill in the air nipping at his skin. A few minutes and the world would be pitch black. Would be freezing as the last remaining source of heat disappeared behind the trees.

This day was about rebirth. With the setting of the sun, the world would begin anew and Bellamy needed to apologize for what he had done. If he wished for their tentative friendship to continue. "I am sorry about Sir Murphy. At the time, I did not think about what allowing Emori to escape would lead to. That you would be left alone and heartbroken."

She reached over, cold hand resting against his. Shaking her head Clarke told him he was wrong. "You gave John and I the best Solstice gift. You gave us a choice. In the morning he will be able to live a life of his own volition for the first time. He found love in Emori. While I had wished he waited until I found a way to amicably break off our engagement to father a child, he now has a life he deserves.

"If I had not been able to break off the engagement, we would have been married out of duty. I am not heartbroken over John's departure. And I-" her voice cut off, eyes watching as the oranges bled into blues and purples. "I will probably be engaged for a third time. But at least this time around, I am of majority. Whomever I choose will be my choice." 

He had forgotten of her engagement to the young Jaha heir. The son of a duke who died of scarlet fever at age eight. Then at age twelve, he recalled the crier standing in the market square, informing the crowd of her second engagement to the late Lord Murphy's young son. 

Taking a deep breath, he turned towards Clarke. "If I were to take up your father's offer for knighthood, please know, I do not wish to be the knight to the princess of all Arkadia." He wished he could wipe the pout from her lips. He would do anything. "I would be the knight to Clarke of House Griffin. Who happens to be the princess of all Arkadia. But is first and foremost Clarke."

He had spent years fighting against the restrictions he faced in life due to the circumstances of his birth. Fighting for a chance. And yet, he spent months as a hypocrite. Antagonizing her for the circumstances of her own birth. With the rising of the sun in the morning, he hoped they could begin again. Their relationship reborn harmoniously.

Her smile was more radiant than the sunset had been. "Who happens to be the princess." She reiterated. 

"Tomorrow the world gets a little brighter." He said, attempting to wink with his left eye. His face distorting humorously. "Sorry, I- I can't do that." He apologized.

"For fuck's sake." She tried to say through her laughter, grabbing the neckline of his tunic. "The world gets a little brighter." With that she pulled him in, lips melding with his.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is okay! I had fun writing this. If you don't like it, please let me know. I'll rewrite it!
> 
> Also my grandma's birthday is the 22nd, the day after the winter solstice. For as long as I can remember, she would say "on the day I was born, the world got a little brighter." Like she even ordered her own birthday cake this year and had the woman write that on her cake. She's a legend.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://shen-gong-oops.tumblr.com)


End file.
